


Alabaster

by Xenjn



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Zexion is the cloaked schemer we all knew this, Axel needs to calm his tits, Florist AU, Flower Shops, In which Marluxia is one hell of a beyonce fanboy, M/M, rewrite of an old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:20:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenjn/pseuds/Xenjn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“…Axel, you’re a fucking idiot. Stop stalking me. Stop watching me all day from this café, it’s really fucking creepy. You’ve got nothing to worry about ok?” Leaning forward he takes a page from Axel’s book and pokes him square on the forehead, maybe a bit rougher than intending to. There’s a callousness in his voice he wasn’t anticipating, either. </p><p>“Got it memorized?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alabaster

**Author's Note:**

> A re-write of a very old fic of mine with the same name. Un-beta'd and slightly rushed to post. Sorry for any formatting issues, still getting used to posting here. 
> 
> For Sarai~

“But I _like_ watching you.”

“…How does that _not_ sound stalkerish?”

Roxas watches as Axel only shrugs his shoulders and sinks into the café’s love seat, long legs stretched out, haphazardly crossed at the ankles. The ever present tilting of his lips only widens into a full grin when Roxas huffs and looks away. The beginnings of a flush burn his cheeks, and he’s unsure if he’s blushing because he’s angry, embarrassed, or just unable to stifle his attraction long enough to stay pissed off.

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.” _That_ brings the frustration back in full force, thank god Axel hasn’t learned to shut his mouth, if he had, he might be able to get away with anything by the sheer force of his stupidly attractive frame.

As Axel lays back, Roxas leans forward, hating the way his body sinks into his own too-big love seat, feeling small and almost childish compared to it, eighteen or not, the age difference between them only becomes more palpable in these moments. “It _is_ that bad. Axel, seriously, you gotta stop doing this. I don’t know if you think it’s cute or whatever, but it’s not, and it doesn’t make me happy.”

He’s met with silence, with those bright green eyes looking away from him and out the huge window pane beside them. The view of the small downtown street is magnificent, the beginnings of winter only beginning to show. Snowflakes fall gently against a backdrop of gold and brown leaves that litter the sidewalks and streets, getting caught on passerby’s shoes and coats. A burst of color is the only thing that interrupts the scene, large cursive _Blue Ivy_ lettering hangs above the myriad of blossoms that line the entrance to Marluxia’s flower shop.

Roxas looks away, back at the redhead who gazes at the flowers, quiet, seemingly lost in thought, which is odd for him. A small jolt of guilt prods at the back of his consciousness. Maybe this _is_ Axel’s ridiculous attempt at romance? Sure they haven’t been dating for that long but honestly most people don’t find something like this even remotely sweet. …Right?

His thoughts are cut off when bright green focuses on him again, a simple and firm, “No.” resounding from grinning, coffee stained lips.

Confused, he shifts atop the love seat, trying to get comfortable, failing. “No…?”

Axel simply shrugs again, leaning his long body forward and reaching for the short wooden table between them and his Batman coffee mug. He brings it to his mouth, and drinks a long, slow sip, smacks his lips, licks them, before nodding once. “That’s what I said. Nope, I’m not going anywhere, it’s not gonna happen.”

That…wasn’t what he was expecting, and Roxas feels almost dumbstruck, unsure of what to do, what to say. He’d expected an argument, or anger, frustration, _something_. Instead he just stares at his boyfriend and his stupid fingerless black gloves with his wet lips pressed against the lip of the Batman mug, looking nonchalant, almost _bored._ As if they were discussing the weather or some television show neither of them had any interest in. He says the first thing that comes to mind; “You’re going to get me fired for this, you idiot!” It’s completely untrue and a shitty argument, Axel knows it as well as he does, takes advantage of it, destroys it without missing a beat.

“How? I’m not interfering with your job or harassing customers or anything stupid like that. I’m just a regular joe in a café drinking some joe,” He snickers at his own joke, the moron; “The fact that that café just _happens_ to be across from where you work, well…”

Roxas doesn’t let his frustrated silence fester, but when he speaks all he can really think about is how he feels so much like an angry, powerless child,being ignored by their older keeper. It’s almost nauseating. “That’s not the point Axel!” He fights to keep his voice level, to maintain a semblance of adulthood, maturity, things that Axel taunts him _constantly_ for supposedly lacking. “You’re going overboard with this, okay? For the last time Zexion’s only working at the shop part time because he’s Marluxia’s friend and one of the few people he can trust. He’s _your_ friend too, remember?”

Fingers strumming against his knee, he wills himself to calm down, leg starting to bounce in another one of those nervous habits he has yet to break. He’s fighting a losing battle here, he knows. “Look, blondie,” Axel shifts, sits up just enough so that he’s higher than Roxas, gesturing with the steaming mug in his hand. “If it was someone else we know, like, I don’t know, Namine? Then that’s fine, makes no difference.”

“How does that make no difference? I’m bisexual Axel, not gay, how many times do I have to tell you that?” It’s only after he says it does he realize just how loud he’s speaking, just what he’s admitting. He looks around the café, embarrassed, the familiar jolt of fear that comes with the audible admission of his sexuality nearly leaves him breathless. Thankfully, thankfully, nobody seemed to notice or hear. Except for Axel who rolls his eyes at his weariness, speaking with unconcealed bitterness in his voice. “Right, whatever, but you and Namine never _dated_ that’s what I’m getting at.”

“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” Of course, _of course_ it is, how could he have not seen it sooner? “First off, that was _two years ago,_ second, you never would’ve known if I hadn’t told you, and the only reason I _did_ tell you is because I didn’t want to you to find out and think I was hiding stuff from you.”

Axel rolls his eyes again and takes another drink from his Batman mug. “Look, Roxy, I get it, but here’s the thing. So Marluxia decides he absolutely _has_ to go to a plant convention. I mean, okay what the fuck who does that? Can you be any more of a loser? But fine, whatever, more power to him. He realizes he needs to bring someone in while he’s gone so you don’t have to manage the whole place by yourself. Fine, that makes sense. But the fact that he hired Zexion is just a little fuckin weird, don’t you think? They haven’t seen each other in, what, six months? But suddenly he’s just the first person he trusts with his precious flower shop? It’s bullshit and I’m not buying it.”

Roxas’s fingers drum just a bit harder on his knee, leg bouncing just a little faster. “What are you even getting at? And how in the hell do you even know how long it’s been since they last talked? Have you been keeping _tabs_ or something?”

Axel shakes his head, his stupid silver earring studs glint in the few rays of sunlight that filter through the canopy of dark clouds. “That doesn’t matter. What I’m getting at is, how do you _know_ that Zexion didn’t ask Marly for this job so he could start getting closer to you again? It’s a little fuckin convenient that he’s just magically here for Marly when he needs him. Especially if it means working with you all day surrounded by flowers and chocolates and other romantic shit.”

Incredulous, Roxas keeps silent for a long moment, forcing his leg to stop bouncing, his fingers to stop drumming. With a heavy throat he thinks that maybe, if he wasn’t keeping it from happening his hands would be shaking, and he’s not even sure why. Pretending he’s frustrated and absolutely nothing else, he stands, unsure of how to even categorize the other emotions right now. “Are you seriously telling me _that’s_ why you’ve been watching me every day for the last week? Because you think it’s just some big conspiracy of Zexion’s to…what exactly? _Seduce_ me?”

His boyfriend just nods, in all seriousness, with his Batman mug clasped in his hands and his oversized black sweater falling off his shoulders and exposing his collarbones with every inhale. “…Axel, you’re a fucking idiot.” His legs are brittle as he swallows dryly, face hot, giving Axel his absolute best glare. “Stop stalking me. Stop watching me all day from this café, it’s really fucking creepy. You’ve got nothing to worry about ok?” Leaning forward he takes a page from Axel’s book and pokes him square on the forehead, maybe a bit rougher than intending to. There’s a callousness in his voice he wasn’t anticipating, either. “ _Got it memorized?”_

Without giving the redhead a chance to reply he turns on his heel, basically rushing out of the café, feeling trapped by it, closed in, but he doesn’t move fast enough to outrun Axel’s voice calling out embarrassingly loud; “Have fun at work babe! I’ll be here! _All day!_ ”

\--

Frustrated or not, Roxas plasters a smile onto his face when he enters the flower shop, nearly sighing in relief and letting the expression drop when he finds the store blissfully empty. Well, aside from the stunning flower displays that line the walls, and the lean young man standing behind the counter, looking as though he’s achieved a sort of serenity as he arranges blue hydrangea into a tall glass vase.

Envious, he steps lightly towards the counter, retrieving the apron he’d all but thrown off when he stomped out just a few minutes before, intent on getting Axel to fuck off by any means necessary. Thinking of how that turned out just feels too much like putting an unnecessary amount of pressure on a fresh wound. So he tries to shift his focus onto something else, like the lush greens that are steadily being added to the hydrangea arrangement. Zexion doesn’t look at him when he speaks, but Roxas has a sense that he’s directing more of his attention at him than the flowers. “I take it that the conversation did not go as planned?” With a laugh that’s actually more of a bitter huff, Roxas leans against the counter, resting his chin on his palm and forcing himself to breathe in deeply, voice dripping with sarcasm. “How could you tell?”

Their eyes meet briefly, well, eye, in Zexion’s case. “His stare has gone from guarded mistrust to, what I believe, is a genuine attempt to unlock a latent pyrokinesis.” His gaze returns to the flowers, taking bright pink scissors in his hands and snipping at the unruly stems in the greens. “I believe he’s expecting me to spontaneously combust at any moment.”

Roxas catches the hint of a smirk that comes to Zexion’s lips, and he can’t help but match it, very studiously ignoring the urge to glance over at his shoulder at Axel, who’s eyes he can almost _feel_ boring into his back. It’s always the most intense when the both of them are alone together in the shop, they’re just _talking_ for fucks sake. “If you did he’d have to deal with Marly’s wrath for setting his precious “ _Blue Ivy”_ on fire.”

He actually manages to draw a small, breathless laugh from Zexion, who slides long stemmed white Calla Liles into the vase, framing the greens and blues. “He would suffer to his last breath.” Roxas doesn’t quite realize he’s staring until he finds himself noticing that the blue hydrangeas match the hue of Zexion’s hair; absently wondering if the resemblance was intentional.

With a final trimming of stems and a few wilted petals pulled free, Zexion steps back, wiping his hands on the cloth that hangs from the pocket of his apron. He tilts his head to the side, hair falling out of place momentarily as he gently turns the vase, examining the flowers. “There. That should suffice.” He sounds satisfied, and Roxas can’t really blame him. Standing up straight he makes his way around the counter and to the register, admiring the arrangement. “You know, you’re _really_ good at this. Marluxia should hire you for real.” Skimming his fingers over the laminated pages of the pricing folder, Roxas feels his phone vibrate in his apron pocket, and resists the knee-jerk reaction of checking the text message. “Hmm, you used Hydrangeas, Calla Liles, greens, plus the vase…So we should price it at about seventy.”

Axel had a habit of texting him whenever he stood “too close” to Zexion, it was how he found out about the whole stalking thing in the first place. “That’s ridiculous, fifty is more than enough.” Roxas shakes his head, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as he writes up the price label. “Marluxia would kill me and _then_ fire me if I priced this that low. How about sixty?” He glances up and rolls his eyes when his phone vibrates again, loud in the otherwise comfortable silence of the shop.

Zexion’s gaze quickly darts to the glass windows, then back at him, a very subtle, and achingly familiar hint of mischief sparks in those dark eyes. The distance between them narrows as a step is made towards him, it only takes a second for Roxas to realize what’s happening. Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning, he moves in closer too, nearly dissolving into laughter when his phone vibrates again. “So, what do you think? Is sixty enough for your arrangement?”

Zexion’s lips twitch when he hears the vibration, and chances another step closer. “I still find it overpriced, however I defer to your judgment.” He can almost feel warm breath on his cheek, can almost sense the others body heat and part of him is struck with the urge to just do it, take another step. There’s a hitch in his voice he wasn’t expecting, lips wet, his phone vibrates again and again with a call this time. “At least _someone_ does.”

The bell above the door chimes and Roxas’s heart leaps into his throat, he very nearly whirls around, completely expecting to see a very pissed off Axel storming into the shop, and exhales in genuine relief when two young women enter, the taller of the pair talking quietly to her companion as they beeline for Marluxia’s meticulously kept roses. Fingertips gently brush his shoulder and Roxas nearly jumps, heart still pounding, the rush of fear lingering. Zexion, the bastard, only seems amused, fearless and Roxas can’t help but wonder how he’d react if Axel really had barged in. “Are you alright?” There’s earnestness in his voice, under the amusement, he can tell, he’s always been able to tell.

Nodding, Roxas swallows the lump in his throat, breathing in deep and taking a step back, the hand falls from his shoulder and his rungs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. I’m okay. Guess we went a little too far.” He doesn’t meet Zexion’s eyes, but he can feel the steady gaze, and if the girls near the roses hadn’t been chatting silence would stretch long and heavy between them. Unable to take it, Roxas forces a smile to his lips, turning away and dragging a cloth over the counter, wiping away the snipped greens and stems. “If you’d like,” Zexion begins, retrieving the small trash bin for him; “You can return to your break, I’m more than capable of helping our customers.”

Shaking his head, it takes effort to look up, to meet Zexion’s eyes, heart still hammering, he takes the bin with a small smile, tosses away the greens. “Really, I’m okay. Besides, I promised I’d handle the customers if you did the arranging remember? I know you hate talking to people.” A gentle, almost breathless laugh that is all uniquely Zexion and then; “Very true. Alright. I’ll leave you to it, find me in the green house should you need me, the Mongolia’s are due for a pruning.”

The door beside the back counter shuts gently behind him as the two girls approach the front, the shorter with jet black hair holding one of Marluxia’s flawless red roses. The taller of the two steps forward. “Did he say _green house_?” Unable to help himself, Roxas chances a quick glance up at the café, he can’t see very well, too many people milling back and forth for him to really be sure, but he thinks, hopes, that maybe Axel’s gaze has finally dropped.

Snapping back to reality he smiles at the girl, almost forgetting the question she asked. “Yup, the owner of the place, Marluxia, personally grows all the flowers we sell.” He points to the door behind him with his thumb. “The green house’s almost twice as big as the store. Closed to the public on most days though, sorry.” “Oh wow, that’s amazing!” The taller girl nods in agreement with her friend, who smiles at Roxas, before her eye catches Zexion’s arrangement. “Holy shit, that bouquet is _gorgeous_ , Hydrangeas are my favorite! How much is it?”

He’s about to answer the question, Axel all but forgotten when he feels the front pocket of his apron vibrate with another text. Behind the girls and across the street Axel’s waving at him, and pointing down at his own phone. Roxas stumbles over his words, blushes, and does his absolute best to ignore it. “Uh, sorry, it’s fifty-“ His phone vibrates again and he has to clench his fist behind the counter to resist giving Axel the finger. “No wait, sorry it’s sixty. Sorry about that I got confused for a sec.”

The shorter girl breathes in sharply, absently rolling the rose stem in her fingers. “Oh wow, _sixty_?” The other girl hesitates, gently touching the small blue flowers. Roxas’s phone vibrates in his pocket once, twice. “I know but, it’s so beautiful, I really want it. Wouldn’t it look great on our table though? I can cook up something fancy, maybe bake a cake or something, _pleaseee_?”

Rolling her eyes, the other girl smiles while his phone begins to continuously vibrate, this time with a call, he entertains the thought of throwing it at the redhead’s stupid pretty face. What did he expect, that he’d just answer his phone while customers were at the counter? “If you _must_.” A little squeal of joy and the rose is pulled from the girl’s hand. “I’ll pay for this too. What’s the total?” “What? Hey!”

Nearly jumping again, he forces a smile to his lips, inwardly scolding himself for letting Axel take up his thoughts, for not paying attention to his customers. “That’ll be sixty two even ma’am, will this be cash or card?” This whole, ‘being watched all day’ obsession was taking its toll, normally this job was how he got _away_ from stress, being around pretty flowers all day and dealing with mostly nice customers had always been kind of therapeutic. Now though…He forces another smile as he runs the credit card, but it feels fake, cracking at the edges. He hopes the girls don’t notice. “Would you like me to wrap that rose for you?”

His phone vibrates again, leg just about numb from the sheer amount of messages he’s received in the span of, what, two minutes? As he waves goodbye to the girls with his plastered smile, his phone vibrates again, more shoppers walk through the door, and Roxas can’t help but think that this is it, this is his life now.

\--

The next two hours are occupied with back to back customers, buying everything from roses to rhododendrons, asking questions, booking bouquets. The vibrations don’t really stop for longer than a few minutes, each and every message only serving to add to his mounting tension. The beginnings of a headache pound behind his eyes by the time he finally, _finally_ gets a minute alone. Which is plenty of time to give Axel a vigorous middle finger and almost slam open the door to the back room. He sees Zexion startle, very subtly, and his throat tightens with guilt as he all but rushes for the small white porcelain sink, filling his hands with water and wetting his face, rubbing his eyes with a groan.

The phone begins vibrating at an _alarming_ rate, of course it is, they’re alone in the back room together, out of Axel’s sight, he must he freaking out. **Good.** Without even bothering to check the upwards of thirty messages, Roxas wipes his wet hands on his pants and pulls out his phone, turning it off and, just in case, removing the battery. Zexion stands beside him, eyebrow raised as Roxas stuffs the remains of his phone back into his apron pocket. “You don’t want to know…Think I can take you up on that offer? I need some time away from the front.” He needs time away from _Axel_ is what he doesn’t say, but Zexion knows, if his gentle nod of acquiescence is any indication. “Take all the time you need.”

\--

Spending the remaining hour of daylight among all manner of flowers is…calming. The pounding in his head dissipates into dull throb, ebbing away as he checks PH levels in various soils, as he waters and prunes, doing his absolute best to care for Marluxia’s ‘babies’ in his absence. Surprisingly, he hasn’t managed to kill one plant yet, though all of them seem to droop, just a little, as if they missed their real caretaker. It’s only when the clouds above begin glowing with shades of golds and reds does he return to the front to help close.

Blinking hard against the darkness, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust, catching the few hints of alabaster light that peek through the drawn blinds, that shine through the skylights. It’s a relief, he finds, not being able to see out the huge window panes, not being able to see the café across from them, or the man who is absolutely, undoubtedly still there. The thought is forced away before the pressure in his temples can return, instead he reaches for the broom beside the back door, and slowly begins sweeping around the counter.

He gently sweeps around Zexion, who leans against the front counter with a book splayed open before him, chin resting atop twined fingers as he focuses on the text with a surprising amount of intensity. “Hey, sorry about abandoning you earlier…Want me to turn on a light?” Zexion’s bangs almost completely obscure his face, so Roxas isn’t quite sure if he’s looking up at him or not, and this last week he hasn’t been able to help but to notice that his hair is longer than he’s ever seen it. He wears it differently, now, tying it up in a ponytail, leaving the bangs to cascade down the side of his face. It’s a good look for him. “No, thank you. I prefer reading in dimly lit places.” That sounds familiar, he can’t help but think., and struggles to place why.

“Isn’t that bad for your eyes?” A gentle, almost silent laugh sounds between them and Roxas forces himself to focus on the floor and his sweeping, cheeks warm. “An old wives tale at best, completely untrue.” The pieces fall together and he recalls a conversation kind of like this, back in high school when they secretly dated, bodies crushed together in an overcrowded cafeteria while Zexion read from his history text book, sunglasses obscuring his eyes. Light sensitive, was the reply he’d received while warm fingers wrapped around his own under the table.

With a heaviness settling in his throat, Roxas sweeps faster past blood red roses, and speaking just to fill the silence, just to distract himself. “Did you have to deal with a lot of people?” “Not at all, one or two.” “Oh…That’s good.” Hearing a gentle sigh, he glances up at Zexion who stands with his head arched back, eyes fixed onto the skylight and the snowflakes that melt atop it. “I suppose most people would rather stay inside during weather like this. A shame, I find it beautiful, calming.”

Unable to help it, Roxas thinks of Axel sitting in a café for nine hours while it snows outside, with his stupid oversized black sweater, his Batman mug, his obsessive text messages, and suddenly he’s sweeping so hard that the broom’s bristles begin to warp. “You’d think that, right? Most people would wanna stay inside when it’s snowing and cloudy but nooope! Apparently _some_ people think that this is _perfect_ weather for stalking their boyfriend. Then again, yesterday’s weather must’ve been perfect for it too, and the day before. In fact all week it’s just been cloudy with a one hundred percent chance of creepy overbearing stalking boyfriends who don’t have the faintest clue what the words ‘ _fuck_ _off_ ”’ mean.”

Worried that the broom will snap in half with how hard he’s sweeping, Roxas has the decency to be embarrassed with Zexion breaks from his norm of quiet, breathless chuckles to legitimate laughter. With burning cheeks he glances up at his ex, the grin he finds on pale lips is rare, and playfully teasing. “Oh, does it bother you that much? Some lovers find such protectiveness endearing.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, he pulls the dust pan from the broom handle, bending to sweep the small pile of fallen leaves and flower petals. “Well ya know what, Zex? I _don’t._ It’s creepy and annoying and just-Agh.” Stiff, he forces himself upright, face hot as he realizes he slipped up, and called him by a nickname they only used when they were dating.

“Just…what?” Standing in the middle of the store with a dust pan in one hand, broom in the other, Roxas feels, almost foolish, almost timid. When he tosses the trash out then that’s it, he’s done for the night, then it’ll be time to face Axel, who absolutely won’t be happy with him for turning off his phone. He’s not ready for that just yet. “It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Absolute lies. “So, what’re you reading?”

It’s too dark to see the look given to him, but he doesn’t need to see it, he can sense the curiosity, and acquiescence. Of all the things Roxas misses about their relationship, it’s this he’s pined for the most. Zexion’s always known when to drop something, always respecting his emotions and his boundaries, _trusting_ that Roxas would tell him when he was ready. “Poetry.”

“Poetry? Since when are you into poetry?” Resigned to his fate, he moves towards the counter and the trash bin, past the display stands full of roses that grown and bloom in any color Marluxia has a fancy for. “I’ve never had an interest in it. However the recent passing of Maya Angelou prompted my favorite bookstore to display her work on their front shelves. I was curious enough to pick up book of her collective poems.”

Tying the trash bag, he tells himself he’ll take it out to the dumpster on the way out and focuses on Zexion’s words, grateful for the small talk, the distraction. “Oh yeah? Do you like it so far?” Another laugh, this one quiet, gentle. “Yes. Much to my surprise.” Nodding for lack of anything to say, he walks around the counter with the intention of returning the broom to its normal place when he’s stopped by Zexion, who reaches out and takes the handle, holding him in place. “Um…”

“It hurts you.” Confused, the tightness in his throat returns as Zexion steps closer “I…what?” Blue eyes meet his, an intensity he’s in no way prepared for keeps him rooted in place. “Axel. His continued mistrust, his refusal to accept and respect your wishes, hurts you.” Roxas feels the burn of tears suddenly rush to his eyes and he’s quick to turn his head away, wiping at his face frantically, water flooding down his cheeks as everything he’s fought to bottle up comes bursting through without his consent. He tries, pitifully, uselessly, to hide it. “I don’t-I just…”Sniffling, he lets his shoulders slump with the weight of his burden, defeated by it. “Y-yeah. You’re right.”

Wristband all but soaked with tears, he forces himself to meet Zexion’s eyes, legs weak, almost brittle and he hates it, grips the broom handle tight with both hands, as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. He tries to force composure, absurdly grateful for their similar height, their similar age, his voice sounding steadier than he feels. “I tried to tell him, but he just…ignored me. I don’t know how to…What should I do?”

Those dark eyes stare back at him, heavy with thought and something he isn’t used to seeing, hesitation. Breathing in deeply, Zexion pulls his hand back from the broom, just barely, fingers brushing over the skin of Roxas’s wrist. “Give me your hand.” His eyes widen and Zexion looks away, down at their hands, a hint of vermillion rising on his cheeks. “Make room for me, to lead and follow you, beyond this range of poetry.”

Gently, gently, Roxas’s fingers are pulled free of their death grip on the broom, the words spoken are quiet between them. “Let others have the privacy of touching words, of love, of loss, of love.” His skin prickles, fingers trembling as they’re twined together. “For me, give me your hand.” Roxas has all but forgotten how to breathe when Zexion meets his eyes again, stiff. “A Conceit, Maya Angelou.”

Silence reigns between them, tears drying on his cheeks as he holds a familiar hand in his own, they haven’t touched like this since the day they said goodbye two years ago. “Zex, I…” A finger touches his lips, silences him, and he can see hesitation in Zexion’s face, hear it in his voice. “You are the only person in this world I’d allow to call me that. I thought, hoped, perhaps, that you’d find it odd that Marluxia would ask _me_ of all people to watch over his pride and joy with you while he is away.”

The brush of skin against his lips falls away, leaving them cool, tingling. “I _asked_ him to give me this position, with the intention of being close to you.” Their grip tightens on each other, and Roxas honestly isn’t sure who gripped tighter. Zexion inches closer to him, hesitantly, carefully, as if he might scared away by any sudden movements. “The truth is that I regret our separation. At the time, it was necessary, we both knew that. I didn’t know how long I’d be gone, or if I’d be able to stay in contact with you. We didn’t want the pressure, the loneliness that comes with an arrangement like that but I experienced the pain regardless, and I spent each day apart from you regretting how it ended.”

Heart racing, the memory of their goodbye, something he’s tried so hard to swallow down, push away, comes rushing back. The four days he spent in bed after, surrounded by nothing but tear stained sheets and gifted books, wishing that he could summon anger, hate, wishing their relationship ended on bitter terms. Wishing for a final argument, a slammed door. Anything would’ve been easier than gentle, longing goodbyes, than a slow kiss and a book pressed into his hands hiding the letter that promised they’d meet again.

Now that same hand he held beneath lunch tables and hidden within crumpled coats on the bus was in his again, and the thought of letting it go again was more terrifying than he was willing to admit. "...Me too." It's barely even a whisper, he isn't sure if he could handle anything more.

Zexion’s eyes widen a fraction, hope flashing across his face as he takes another step closer. Roxas can feel warm breath on his lips, they’re the same height now. They’ve grown, they changed, two years apart and somehow they’re back exactly where they started. With hesitant touches and flushed cheeks, standing alone in the dark and staring into each other’s eyes. “Then…” Zexion begins, tightening his grip, and Roxas feels a smooth thumb stroke the back of his hand, something so subtle, so gentle and yet it ignites every nerve in his skin. "Will you have me back?"

Roxas knows he should speak, say something, _anything,_ but even breathing was a strain. All he can think of is stolen kisses in deserted hallways, the fear of being caught with another boy, the thrill of it. He thinks of a redhead sitting in a café across the street from where he stands with his fingers twined in another's own. Thinks of Axel's impatience and his affection, long limbs splayed out, uncaring and unbothered with the space he takes up, unaware of how his actions could affect anyone but himself.

Thinks of lazy nights in spring, forgotten homework splayed across his bed, head resting on a warm chest that rises and falls with each breath, Zexion’s gentle voice reading him page after page of obscure novels, fingers brushing through his hair as he does.

Each lingering moment of silence stretches heavy between them, and the beginnings of hope he'd seen in Zexion's face slowly begins to melt away, fall away behind that familiar indifferent mask he gives to strangers. "I apologize. You’ve moved on, I understand." The hand in his begins to pull back, and his stomach nearly somersaults. Gripping tight he leans in, smashing his lips against Zexion’s own in an uncoordinated mess of a kiss.

An arm wraps around his waist, chests crush together and lips crush together and Roxas kisses him like he wishes he had that sunny day two years ago, all desperation and emotion. He presses closer, tongues suddenly brushing, heat rushing through his veins and all that fill his thoughts is how _angry_ those words made him. He _never_ moved on, spending this last week working together has been all joy and heaviness, fear and frustration, all of which he forced himself to swallow just to have Zexion accuse him of ‘moving on’.

They let go of the broom and reach for each other, it clatters to the ground and it feels like a barrier has dropped between them. They part for air only to steal it from each other again. Roxas buries his fingers in pale blue looks and cannot believe he’d almost forgotten how this feels. Their twined fingers flex and squeeze together and without even thinking he’s using the force of his body to push Zexion back against the counter, pressing their bodies together.

“How could you even say that…?”He’s breathless, chest heaving and he can’t meet Zexion’s eyes, not yet, just lets his lips drag over the curve of his jaw, less of a kiss and more of a brushing of skin. He can feel Zexion’s pulse pounding beneath his lips, can almost taste the flush that burns his ears as he breathes against one. “How can you think I’ve moved on?” That warm hand grips his neck, Zexion forcing their lips together again as if he’d crumble and this time Roxas doesn’t pull back from the kiss, doesn’t care to. His lungs burn, head swimming, heart racing just like it always did whenever they kissed. Some things never change.

It’s Zexion who pulls back, who presses his forehead to his, both panting, both breathless. His skin burns beneath the fabric of his clothes, aches to press into the body against his. A hint of a smirk comes to kiss swollen lips; “I’d almost forgotten how flushed your cheeks become.” Roxas grins back, doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah? Your ears are probably _glowing_ by now.”

They share a breathless laugh and lean in again, lips barely brushing, the thrill of their touch jolting through them when three loud knocks sound out in the silence, an all too familiar voice calling out; “Roxas!” The door handle is gripped, jiggles and his eyes go wide with fear, all the heat, all the warmth that rushed through him turns to ice in his veins. “ _Please_ tell me you locked the door.” He whispers to Zexion who nods his head, calm against him as Roxas forces himself to pull back, limbs weak, throat heavy.

“Rox! It’s past nine and I am freezing my fantastic ass off out here! Lets go!” He flinches involuntarily, tries his absolute best to get his breathing under control. “Keep your pants on Axel, I’ll be there in a minute!” He tries to convey a sense of apology in the look he gives, though he isn’t sure if it’s even noticeable. The room has become all but pitch black now, sun having finally set and Zexion takes his hand before he can walk away, leaning in close enough for their lips to touch as he whispers. “You need not decide right away. It’s not a simple choice. I will wait as long as you need.”

Emotion wells in his throat and Roxas can’t help but lean in and kiss him again, quick, gentle, grateful, and another knock to the door pulls them apart. Zexion turns the lights on and he squints, moving for the door, his breathing barely under control before he unlocks and opens it. Axel brushes inside, past him, eyes narrowed. “What took you so long?”

His eyes are still adjusting to the light when he speaks, nearly snorting. “We had a lot of orders today and had to do inventory. What’s the matter, couldn’t stay at your precious café another five minutes?” Hands on his hips, Axel looks down at him, his tone accusatory, at _best_. “Not when the blinds are all drawn and the door’s closed. Doing inventory in the dark? Is that why you’re breathless?”

The implication stings more than he thought it would and Roxas bites the inside of his cheek, angry. “Maybe I was startled because some _idiot_ thought it’d be a good idea to bang on the door in the middle of nowhere!" “Well maybe if _you’d_ turn your damn phone on I wouldn’t have to bang on the door now would I?” Glaring up at Axel, he sees the mistrust on plain display in his eyes and he _hates_ it, even though he knows he has no right to be angry. Axel had been right. For all his ravings and stalking, he’d been _right_. But acknowledging that only pisses him off more. “You’re the one who decided to text me thirty times in a row why wouldn’t I turn off my phone?”

Aware of the scene they’re making he rolls his eyes, gripping the loose neck of Axel’s oversized sweater so he can start tugging him away, out of the shop. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, with shame. He doesn’t want to leave. “Just forget it moron. Let’s go before you freeze to death.” Axel swats his hand away, eyes narrowed in a look that screams this conversation is far from over. “Don’t pull, you’ll stretch it! And good, this place reeks anyway.” Axel levels a glare at Zexion too, just out of spite it seems before he all but stomps out of the store, bell chiming. “Let’s _go_ Rox!”

Snowflakes flow into the shop through the open door and Roxas can’t help but look back at Zexion, who watches him with those dark eyes, earnest and trying, so hard, to hide his longing behind a mask of indifference. Unable to help it, his lips twitch into the smallest hint of a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Zex.”

-END-


End file.
